


Poetry 18/19

by House_Of_Marcella



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 18:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19183750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/House_Of_Marcella/pseuds/House_Of_Marcella
Summary: the lukewarm poetry and drabbles by a completely normal 16/17-year-old girlsome of these are actually good i swear





	1. i used this as an exam

**How to Design a Bedroom**

Martina 6/7/2019

 

**Paint the walls a neutral color**

ignore the trends and living magazines

**Remember painters tape**

don’t let unwanted marks appear where the shouldn’t be

**Make sure you know where the outlets are, so you can avoid excessive extension cords**

know what exists to help you and what exits to hinder you

**Be selective about your furniture**

sometimes it’s best to use what you already have

**Wash your curtains in sections if possible**

few people want to know the details of what goes on inside your home

**If you’re interested, invest in blackout curtains**

do try to appreciate darkness only at night, the sun exists for a reason, enjoy it

**Try not to block your heaters**

sometimes it’s your fault you’re cold and unhappy

**Make sure to have a secondary seating place, don’t be on your bed unless for sleeping**

why would anyone want to be there if everything’s about you

**A desk if an absolute must, make sure it has storage and room for a computer**

don’t spend your entire life at the desk

**Remember to have some form of safe**

Some people will not hesitate to take everything from you

**Have a bookshelf, even if you’re not much of a reader**

don’t hoard the things you love, learn to appreciate new things in your life

**Avoid excessive decoration and knick-knacks**

Meaningless and ‘decorative’ stuff will not help you, it only makes clutter 

**Put the heavy stuff at the bottom of your storage pieces**

you have the right to keep secrets, but don’t hide everything about yourself 

**Clean out your closet**

you never know what you’ll find buried under years of useless endeavors and clutter

**Keep your room clean and welcoming**

be nice to the people around you, even if you find them annoying


	2. i used this as an exam

You turn and look directly into her eyes. They don’t move, nothing about her changes. Nothing about her ever changes and you hate it with such a passion that you suddenly want her to crumble right now. You want her to disappear, to change, you want her to turn and look at you instead of staring blankly into the world that you are blind to. Despite your desires, she does not crumble, nor does she return to the proper world. You know, with the little bit of logic left over from the days before, that it’s not going to happen. It does not stop you from sitting here in despair. It does not stop you from wilting inside every time her name is mentioned. Even the purest of water and air could not stop this flower from dying and being consumed by rot and rock.

It’s almost ironic. You use ‘almost’ because you don't want to admit that it’s exactly what you asked for. Is it not your fault? Were you not the person that told her to stay? Were you not the person who entombed her here?

There is fear on her face and you wonder if it would be the right thing to cover it. You don’t though, let her destruction be a reminder for all those yet to exist. Let it be a reminder of how much you failed. Let what is left of her statue in the few decades the story still has be how you are remembered. Your own ultimate failure. Do not let the stories pretend that you were a good person. For no true good person would have done this to her.

You suppose she would have liked it like this, or at least find something similar to comfort. No matter what she did, she was still that vain girl you had first met and would surely love to be remembered as she was. You take comfort in that. The idea of it not being complete hell is the only way you can get more than a few minutes of sleep. 

You turn away from her, hesitate for just a moment, then pick up the hammer.


	3. idk some bs about eyes??

Years in the past, this image brought joy and light to a life consumed in darkness and wrought with misfortune.  
It was an eye.  
All seeing, all knowing.   
One glance and all your sins were in the room.  
Bouncing around your room like the molecules you weren't allowed to know of.  
To achieve the unachievable one must break the bonds of the taught scripture  
Interrupt the field, break the polar attraction  
Wish for separation, force ionic attraction   
Act with Honor, lose your life and standing  
Prove statements wrong and be cast away from the chains of worship.

The Holy Family still rests above my bed,  
An ever existent eye,  
A never failing guilt trip,  
An all-consuming lie.


	4. like the last one but better???

Have mercy (ಥ﹏ಥ)

 

On the bedroom window, there are sigils for protection.  
Painted symbols for luck and happiness line the frame,  
Water from the spring in the woods, a wine bottle filled with murk from the river next door,  
Rain from summer and the melted remains of last year’s first snowfall sit against the glass.  
Perfectly placed as to catch the light of the receding moon and the glow of colored glass.  
Dreamcatchers, from home or from a foreign land, gifted or created,   
Bangles made to awaken at only the strongest breeze,  
Images stained onto glass components.

The Holy Family hung there, at the highest point in the window. Spying into my life.

Vision assisted by the lack of screen, the only remaining evidence of past foolishness and rebellion,   
One sees a rusting contraption nailed to the side of the house, the seasonal home of sage and Lavender.  
Snow, taking its temporary place in the empty spaces where plants grew and will again.   
The light of a star that only truly shines for too few people lights through my window and illuminates what’s left of my life.


	5. i actually used this for my creative writing exam

You’re don’t know the name of the villain that your fighting. You don’t know their backstory or why exactly they want Octavia dead. The one thing you do know, with absolute certainty is that this is completely your fault.   
You hadn’t been thinking when you were approached, the death of your brother displaced the logic and reasoning you used to be proud of. You forced yourself not to think of what the creature’s abilities the entire process.  
Now here you are, likely betrayed for the second time, displaced from both sides of the fight.

The ground explodes around you, cracking and allowing the foam tentacles to rise and grab at the rubble covering the pavement. The limbs rise above your head, surpassing the surrounding skyscrapers. They form a circle around the entire block, and before you can even consider if this is meant to be protection or a prison, the creatures grow widthwise, blocking any escape paths.  
The streets are silent, but you can hear the battle slowing beyond your reach. The defense slows and the disgusting squelching of those monstrosities grows louder and louder. Abruptly, the little sunlight let in through the single topmost opening disappears, and a body drops from the sky. If they’re human, they’d be in a thousand bits covering the sidewalk. 

Unfortunately for you, she’s not human. Octavia lands on the ground, alive and moving. Just as trapped as you are.   
It takes her time to actually get up, enough that the faint screaming and squelching outside the walls has stopped. It’s pitiful to look at, as Octavia lifts herself with shakey arms. The pity is lost the moment that she locks eyes with you.  
Oh no.  
You, her oldest villain.  
You, her long-lost partner.  
You, her former greatest friend.  
You, the person who tried to kill her.   
Regardless of your original intention, you almost killed her.  
The ground quakes again, formless worms sprouting from the ground. Their forms simultaneously liquid and solid, making the ground slipp-  
She’s talking. She’s talking and you can’t hear a word of it. The less desperate side of you laughs. If only she could have shut up when you were still friends, then neither of you would be here, trapped and facing certain death. A moment of distraction and she’s standing next to you, desperate anger the only emotion visible. 

A limb rises behind her, unusually sharp.  
The sunlight is gone, you’re not alone anymore.  
Everything slows, her silent words stop, and the creature moves above her.

It’s time to make a decision.

You push her out of the way, and there is nothing to stop you from being completely impaled.   
If the world slowed before, it’s turning backward now... the seconds stretch for hours. Your final thoughts are of unintentional betrayals and irredeemable crimes. You know you’re not going to see your brother again. You’re not going to see anything again.

 

Then of course, you wake up, because nothing ever gets to be simple for you.


	6. this isn't even a poem it's just me rambling

This sounds like the words of a crazy person, let’s ignore that.

I’m obsessed over a woman who doesn’t exist outside of my head.  
First she was Anna, next she was Marcella, and finally, she was Florence.   
Florence is permanently stuck in my head.   
Her existence and her story linger in my thoughts since I was in Middle School.  
Her life is put together not through memories, but through snippets of stories and epic quests, letters without recipients, and an entire sketchbook filled with storyboarding for her nonexistent fight scenes.  
I’ll just be doing something, casually talking with friends or sorting through homework, and I’ll be completely caught up in the life of someone who doesn't exist.   
It’s weird that she isn’t real. When the person who was there at your greatest lows is a splinter of you She’s a projection of my own ideals and desires. I know this whenever the trance ends and I’m back to advancing in my own life.....

But I also know her. She’s been an imaginary friend since I grew out of childhood. And yet she’s one of my biggest motivators. It’s pretty shameful to admit that you draw more strength from your mind’s fictional character than you do with the real people in your life.  
But Florence is everything I could be. That’s why she’s my goal.  
It’s not multiple personality disorder, we checked... I’m just weird.

 

martina out


	7. this poem actually relates to something i care about

Oh dear Heva, first created and first of mind, 

The greatest Rise and shortest Fall

Sweet and sister Septima, seventh and second

Last born and cursed alone

Heroine Hibiki, third of Kenji and third of Title 

First of new and last known

Sarangerel, the unknown, the one lost to nightfall

The one to be born again in love and twilight

Quinoa the court child, 

stolen from her cradle and gone before the dawn

Delta the Queen, The second New

She with friends and glorious works

Siyem, who painted the sabbath red, 

Intentional with honor and Reckless with lives

Octavia the untitled, raised first and born eighth

Encased forever in coral and stone

Octavian. The plague locked in the past

The weaver Tara, who entangled the damned in her fate given loom 

Who seized the title and turned the tides towards herself

Decca, the one who burns with failure

Marcella, the curser and the unforgiving mother

Hiphthhia, the Failure.

For Latula, who reawoke justice and fulfilled her sister's duties

For Florence, decked in purple and gold, the Mistress of Time.


	8. wtf did my teacher give me an a for this

Roses are red  
Violets are blue  
There is not a day that goes by I don't love you  
From the moment I met you, I knew

We were not born for each other  
I make no claim to your life   
I have no desire to control you  
I only want to be with you in life and love  
in good and bad, through curses and blessings  
There is nothing I want more than to exist alongside you

 

this poem was great in my mind last night   
and now I am filled with fright   
these rhymes are terrible  
I'm sorry.


	9. idk some bs

It was that night by the river

When the water rushed and

The end was nowhere in sight

When the trees were _ Shook  _

And the dead leaves tangled in your hair

 

Beware the man to the right

Keep away from the woman on the left

There is no one where you’ve already been

Full disclosure is that they’re no longer there 

Life is precious 

but dear god stay away from the banks 

  
  
  
  
  


.......they only want your interest money

  
  
  


My poetry reflects my mind..... Aka a nonsensical bundle of tangents, but with more dramatic water scenes


	10. Chapter 10

Based off my mother’s poem “Friends until the end”

 

together in love or apart in eternity 

dreams hang in front of you

hands are tied behind you 

 

held together with knots 

entrapped by ropes of words

the mind disfigured with thread 

The body a prisoner to the home

You’ve made these walls cell bars

and these comforting acts reminders of submission

you’ve cursed me with your secrets and destroyed me with your heresy

  
  
  


so yeah

Leave.


	11. one last year

One last year

One last year to make it all count

One last year until you’re gone

Get your last moves ready

 

Twice we met and twice you returned

No longer an accomplishment

Just a simple fact in your current life

Start Playing 

 

13 Hours attached

No meeting

Nothing but stress 

The tides have turned and the game board is set

 

Try your best not to tumble as the ground shakes

Try not to think that the stability of the ground beneath you

is broken by your own faults and not those from nature

Collect your pieces and get ready to go’

 

Avoid the responsibilities and be ready for failure

Buy them online and collect them from friends

 

Try hard and build respect

Start the rehearsal and try not to cry


	12. i swear these were good a few weeks ago

Synchronization of gears

Time skips of seconds

Missing minutes

And no less than twenty-four hours

Beige for dress

Brown for effort

Black for lies

Colors and plastic for the watch in reverse

Given gifts and a stolen moment

Gather together and listen

No typing keys, no phone, no music 

Unceasing passing and the drone of monotone ticks

  
  
  
  
  
  


Oooop there it is


	13. Land of Mothers and Inside Jokes

I owe my existence to you  
We share only a few opinions  
Only a few moments of agreement  
Just barely enough understanding

Bananas and susceptibility are the things that control us

We will always argue  
But right now, we have time  
For now, we can resolve our issues together

Let us go our separate ways in peace  
With no conflict to separate us and happy memories that linger in the challenging times to come


	14. Chapter 14

I remember you only in the messy scrawl of a confused child

In fleeting curiosity for meaning

Noticed for only seconds and forgotten in fleeting years

 

Squandered for fairy tails and pliable dreams

Wasted in unanswered questions and false stories

 

Feuds and feelings of arguments that didn’t last

Remembering the arguments before the laughs

The smirks before the smiles.

 

A little girl plays a toy piano.

Christmas lights dangle above her

The notes are Mismatched and the memories are a patchwork

Sewn together with recorded thoughts and groomed by the words of others

 


	15. Astrology

_ I am  _ the cardinal red fire

_ I have _ the emerald earth contained within my fixed perspective

_ I think  _ in pale yellow, I ponder the sickly color

_ I feel  _ white water and silver streams

I will become scarlet and gold through the sun and its flowers

I analyze the beings spread around, but am blind to my own thoughts

I balance the civilized and unprincipled

I create a coil in deep red, and guard its end

I see to the luck and behold the world in cold purple

I use my perspective to darken the world

I know the chaos I create

I believe only in was has already come to pass

  
  


_ “The Complete Book of Astrology” by Caitlin Johnstone _

 


	16. Chapter 16

Forest Of Bells and Baubles

Martina

  
  


light comes from the ground

it flows from the grass

It tangles with the tree branches, swirling in supernatural colors

lighting the darkened sky and illuminating clouded memories

images flash from above, memories project onto the clouds

winds ring the bells and shake baubles on the trees, saturating the air with simple music

 

if you look hard enough, you’ll see yourself reflected in the unlit sky

Illuminated with the divine light of the earth below you

 

the winds return and the chimes sound and the bells ring and the baubles dance silently,

the images painted on their surface remain still and serve as the only witness for what is beginning tonight

 

 

this poem actually has a really cool painting to go with it but idk how to upload pics so sorry


End file.
